


Galaxy Eyes

by congotsja



Category: Glee
Genre: Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 17:38:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/congotsja/pseuds/congotsja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blue eyes are the best people. Green eyes are the most powerful. Brown eyes, however... AU. Kurt is rare, with a blue and green eye colour. Blaine has brown eyes. But Kurt secretly thinks that Blaine's eyes are beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Galaxy Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so what if different eye colours meant different things, like the eye colour you were born with defined you. For example, Blue - Considered the best eye colour, the blue representing the sky, if you were born with blue eyes you were a purer bread of human. Like royalty. Green - Considered the most powerful eye colour, the green representing the forest, if you were born with green eyes you were a stronger, fiercer bread of human. Like a warrior. Brown - Considered the filthiest eye colour, the brown representing dirt, if you were born with brown eyes you were a lesser bread of human. Like the lowest class of society.
> 
> Now, gender, race, sexuality… all that stuff doesn't matter, it isn't irrelevant. Blue eyed people are the best and green are the feared and brown a treated like dirt. Kurt, having gorgeous eyes, Blue and sometimes they have flicker of green in them, making him really special, and everyone wants him, he's gorgeous, and on top of the social ladder. Blaine, having brown eyes, is treated like shit, a lot. But Kurt secretly thinks Blaine's eyes are beautiful. Thoughts? Someone write this please.
> 
> Written for bonerfloozy.

**Galaxy Eyes**

The dark pupils standing out in a whirlwind of misty blue and flecks of green made even the politest human gasp incredulously and stare. No one on this universe had eyes as wonderful (or, indeed, as wondrous) as those.

Certainly, there were blue eyes – the most common and well-appreciated eye colour in the world they lived in. It was told, by many fathers to their sons and mothers to their daughters, that the precious colour blue meant that they were bred of a purer existence. A purer breed – some even said they were royalty. If you met someone with blue eyes, you were expected to figuratively bow down before them, in some form. A simple understanding of their higher breed was common courtesy. It was the way the world worked.

The strongest colour came in several different shades, and showed the weak from the vulnerable. The lighter green eyes were considered for the people who were brave inside, but never courageous enough to stand up for other people and only bursting out into short lengths of gallantry when in serious life and death situations. The darkest green eyes, (almost verging on the edge of brown, some said, though they got shot down severely quickly by the strong green eyes themselves), were for the people with the most strength, the people who no one ever saw bat an eyelid.

And then, there were the brown eyes.

Blaine Anderson was misfortunate enough to be a soul gifted with the curse of brown eyes. They were all the same; bleak, desperate, murky, the colour of mud and disgraceful beauty – the colour of filth. It was expected, customary even, for them to bow down to their superiors – the greens and blues. They were forced to stay back in the shadows, and watch as the world revolved around the green and blue spheres, never getting a chance to speak unless spoken too. Brown eyes were, truly, a profanity.

It did not help matters that the eyes his own orbs were currently placed on were those of none other than Kurt Hummel – resident beauty. His eyes were unique, in every way, which (instead of making him an outcast, as some might have proposed) moulded him into an extremely superior being. Kurt was ostentatious and highly sarcastic, a way of shielding attention from unwanted visitors, even though everyone couldn't help but take in his outer beauty. The way his eyes seemed to change colour – between green and blue – with every different facial expression he pulled, every different emotion, created an inner turmoil inside Blaine and several others.

They were all helpless when it came to Kurt.

The boy himself knew he was special. Clearly, he'd had many compliments given to him in his life (all mainly about his eyes, Blaine would bet with a bitter five dollar note), but there was something else that drew Kurt to him. It wasn't the way his eyes flickered with several different colours, all at once, as if a firework display had just taken place inside them, nor the way his eyelashes added a slight shadow to his entirely too pale (yet perfect) face. No, it was the mere fact that Kurt was who he was.

He was the only boy Blaine had ever met that wasn't disgusted by brown eyes.

It had happened mere days ago. Blaine had been walking carefully through the school corridors, his head held down firmly, avoiding eye contact with anyone. It was awkward, avoiding everyone eyes when they were the sign that told the most about you, the way of knowing a person before they even spoke.

So it came as quite a bit of a shock when he felt a hard body slam him into the lockers.

Groaning slightly, he picked up his geometry textbook, knowing that it was one of the blue eyed jocks. They seemed to have an obsession with causing him utter humiliation, hatred, self-loathing and pain. Blaine knew, deep down in his heart, that he didn't deserve it. Just because his eyes were dark, the colour of dirt rotting in a moulding pile of dust, it didn't mean that he was any less of a man than they were. In fact, he was better than most of them. He  _knew_ that, he knew it with every bone in his body.

Still, the pain of being slammed so roughly at least fifty-five times a day into the hard, solid ground or the cool, painful metal of the dusty lockers, was enough to bring down his perfect 'I can deal with this' façade all the way back down to earth.

He was a brown eyed teenager, living in a world that didn't understand equality.

"Hey," a lenient voice murmured and Blaine saw a perfectly shaped hand (with no calluses, how did he do it?) holding out his textbook. Still regarding the dirty floor, for Blaine knew his place, he murmured a quiet thank you and extended a hand out to receive the hefty object back – honestly, why did the school board insist giving them such substantial workloads when they scarcely did anything in class?

Blaine grimaced as he tugged lightly at the book, expecting it to fly swiftly back into his hands. Instead, the other hand on his textbook drew back. "Please," the other person whispered. "Stop looking down. You look like a dejected puppy."

Blaine strained not to smile at that – he seriously, completely tried – but he felt the corners of his unrelenting lips rise slightly at the sarcastic tone, unsure whether it was meant as a joke or not. He still did not move his head, just in case this was a game, a sick trick which he knew everyone was capable of, no matter who or what they were.

"Why won't you look up at me?" the boy asked and Blaine felt a rather vicious tug on his hair. Letting out a little squeal at the shock of it, his face finally settled upwards, so that he was face to face with none other than Kurt Hummel. The taller boy smiled and held out the geometry textbook once more. "That's so much better. You have such a pretty face."

Blaine frowned, stunned. "W-why are you talking to me?" he asked, looking around wearily. Thankfully, the nearly always busy corridors filled with bustling people who seemed to never stop moving were empty. "I'm a brown eye, Kurt."

"Yes, that is true." Kurt acknowledged. "But I still think you're beautiful."

Blaine felt his jaw drop slightly at that. It was so…  _blunt_  and he could tell, from the way Kurt's tone said it so firmly and confidently, the graceful teenager was being brutally honest. Blaine wasn't used to such kindness – but he knew, without a doubt, he enjoyed the way it felt.

"Shouldn't you be in class?" Blaine asked, after an amiable silence that neither of them seemed to want to break. It felt peculiar, speaking first to a blue eye. He wasn't indorsed to do this back home. The only time Blaine was ever allowed to speak of free will was simply when his dad permitted him. His father was a green eye and, thus, controlled the house.

It was, undeniably, a place where Blaine did not feel safe.

Kurt, though… There was something diverse, something even relaxed in the air between them. He didn't feel as if the tiniest erroneous word could cause uproar, as if Kurt would laugh and ridicule him for being a brown eye such as this. The way Kurt had easily spoken to him… at his own free will, at that… Blaine had never experienced something like it.

Kurt sniggered and beamed at Blaine, his eyes sparkling like the purest of diamonds. "So should you, Mr Anderson, so should you."

Blaine bit his lip and slowly nibbled at it, swallowing his chuckle nervously. Even though it felt much more peaceful with Kurt, the way that he was able to talk so freely (a wish that Blaine had always wanted granted), old habits didn't die quickly.

Kurt smiled at him again and, viewing deep past the blue-green orbs and gazing as far as he could into the other boys face, Blaine could read the powerful emotions shining vividly throughout them. Kurt was opening all his feelings to him, putting them on display just for him, allowing him to see what the taller boy was feeling.

Blaine felt his face contorting in confusion and pity as he noticed the most vibrant emotion there, swallowing up Kurt's vivid blue-green eyes, was the horrible depiction of sadness.

Shaking his head (and causing his curls to bounce hysterically), Blaine stretched out a hand, insecure of how to assist the elder boy. "Y-your eyes…" he said, selecting his words as pragmatically and tediously as possible, "they tell a story…"

Kurt scoffed slightly, jumping at Blaine's violent recoil, and then let out an unstable exhale. "I'm sorry, Blaine… I didn't mean to frighten you. I… uh… I just… I hate it when people talk about my eyes."

Blaine didn't quite know what to say to that, so he settled for a simple "oh".

Kurt sighed and took Blaine's hand in his own, stroking the fingers smoothly. The peace amongst them was comfortable and, for once, Blaine felt wholly consumed in someone else's emotions. He frowned warily at Kurt. "What's it like?" he questioned eventually, knowing that the other boy would probably hate him afterwards. "Being the way you are? Exclusive? Different? Popular?"

Kurt stroked a hand through his unblemished hair and let out another long breath. Blaine just sat there, tolerant, and waited for Kurt to begin.

"Well, it's not all it cracks up to be." Kurt said, with a dry chuckle, which didn't fit with his voice. No one should sound that despondent. No one should  _feel_ that miserable. "It was satisfactory at first. People always said that I was beautiful, I'd be a model one day, on television programmes, films, theatre productions, all that jazz… It was my  _dream_. I was fed every little bit of attention I craved and satisfied as quickly and as easily as was possible. I had a big ego, when I was younger." He let out another breathy chuckle. "I still do now."

Blaine nodded and leant a bit closer, his head slowly coming to rest on Kurt's shoulder – an action that the rest of the school would criticise them for, beat them for, some might even kill them – and said, his voice loud and strong in the quiet atmosphere. "What happened?"

Kurt's exquisite eyes fluttered shut, erasing everything surrounding the pair, and he let out a quivering breath. "Not many people know this…." He whispered, "But my full name is Kurt  _Elizabeth_  Hummel." There was another elongated pause as Blaine processed the fresh information. "I was named after my mother."

"That's… lovely." Blaine whispered, though his voice still felt so insubstantial. It was a phenomenon, being granted something as pleasing as this acquiescence – his own voice, permitted to speak his own opinions. His dark head still decisively on Kurt's shoulder (which he found exceedingly peaceful), he caressed Kurt's palm with the tip of his extensive, abrasive fingers.

"It is," Kurt agreed effortlessly, opening his eyes once again – allowing Blaine to perceive every inch of melancholy and aversion in them.

Blaine bowled off of Kurt's shoulder and judiciously kneeled in front of the other boy, so that he was higher. Reticently, he positioned a hand on Kurt's cheek and traced the jawline all the way to the eyes, where his drifting digit loitered. "These eyes are striking," he told Kurt softly, "but sadness and anger don't belong in them. It stops… making them perfect."

Kurt raised a hand and placed it over Blaine's, feeling Blaine become rigid at the sudden contact. "Perhaps I don't want to be perfect."

Blaine glimpsed up at that. "But… why not?" he struggled to apprehend why anyone, let alone Kurt Hummel, would strive to be anything other than flawless. "It's the one thing I want more than anything in the world."

Kurt smiled hollowly. "I told you that I was named after my mother." He said leisurely, so that Blaine could effortlessly understand. "She died – when I was eight."

"…How did she die?" Blaine enquired timorously, as if he was petrified to ask.

"Brown eyes…" Kurt said, revolving away agonizingly from Blaine, his torso heaving deeply. "My mother… Elizabeth… she had eyes like mine. They weren't as noticeable, of course. Her eyes were predominantly green with little bits of blue… People thought she was special, perfect, an extraordinary human being… but then there were the brown eyes."

Blaine cringed somewhat, hearing the tremendously restrained abhorrence in Kurt's tone. "I… I can go, if you want. You don't ever have to speak to me again… If that's what you want…"

"No," Kurt exhaled gently. "It isn't you, Blaine. You weren't accountable for what happened to my mother. If anything, you'd be the person  _least_ responsible.

"The brown eyes didn't mean to hurt my mother. In fact, they did scarcely anything. She was dying anyway. There are worse things than eye discrimination in the world you know." Kurt said, letting out a dry chuckle. "The only person she ever told about her cancer was my dad. She didn't even tell her parents. I didn't know. I didn't know until last year, when my dad found the strength to tell me.

"It was all due to the pressure the brown eyes were putting on her. It was to try and make her feel something other than special, to bring her 'down to earth' in some way. I know they didn't mean it… It helps."

"But how do you talk to me so easily?" Blaine asked disbelievingly, his eyes gazing firmly into Kurt's. "I'm a brown eye. You should  _hate_ me."

"I know…" Kurt said softly. "But I don't. I  _don't hate you_. Why do blue and green eyes have to hate brown? Brown… Brown is the divinest colour in the whole universe, in my opinion. My eyes are inadequate compared to yours. Yours are sturdy, dazzling, vivacious and just… They're the eyes I've always wanted. I don't like compliments, as they were what led to the trigger of my mum's death. I don't want to be treated as if I'm miraculous because I know, deep down inside, that I'm not. I'm far from perfect."

Blaine smiled, holding Kurt's hand firmly. "I would object to that."

Kurt gave him a lax smile and entwined their fingers. "Truthfully? I just wish that everyone could be treated equally. I wish that people didn't praise me for my eyes. They're not  _me_. There is more to me than the anomalous colour of my eyes. I just… I just wish people could see that."

Blaine frowned and removed his hand so that he could manoeuvre it on top of Kurt's. "…I can see that."

Kurt's eyes brightened instantly. "I knew there was something different about you, Blaine Anderson."

Blaine shifted uneasily as he tried not to redden at the frankness and buoyancy in which Kurt claimed his words. "R-really?" he asked, trying to get rid of the speech impediment that he was continuously mindful of. "Why would you think that?"

"You're the only brown eye I've ever met that has been able to keep a poised, even though deficient in some areas, conversation with me." Kurt said. "Actually, apart from my dad, Finn and Carole… You're the first person who's accomplished that."

Blaine blinked in confusion. "You're popular, though. How can people  _not_ talk to you?"

Kurt scoffed faintly and smirked as he detected that, this time, Blaine didn't jump. "Truly, most of my conversations go like this. You say, 'oh hey, you're eyes are exceptional, you're such a stunning person' and then leave after I say a quiet 'thank you' because I'm so intimidating. I really wish that I could have had brown eyes or normal blue eyes, at least. The eyes I have? No matter how pretty or unique, they still cause some of my biggest problems."

"I know you undoubtedly don't want to hear this," Blaine said, "but having brown eyes isn't easy too."

Kurt moaned and slumped dolefully to the floor. "If this is what the world is going to be like for the rest of my life, then I am not going to let it remain. I'm going to make a change – right now, in fact. Hello, Blaine Anderson, I'm Kurt Hummel, and I think brown eyes are a sign of assurance and graciousness. I also think that they're the pleasantest colour in this planet.

"But I don't care about your eyes. You know why? They  _don't make a person_. There is more to everyone than that. We're all diverse. And, Blaine, I think you're excellent – brown eyed or not. If I want to be friends with you, I damn well will be."

Blaine's grin couldn't possibly grow any wider. "You can quieten down, you know. No one's here to hear you."

"No," Kurt agreed. "But I still need to get this off my chest. Blaine Anderson, you are remarkable and I  _love_ your behaviour and spirit and courage. Because that's what I think defines a person; their spirit." Blaine pulled lightly at Kurt's shoulder, who turned around and beamed at him. "What do you think? Shall I do this?"

"No…" Blaine said, making Kurt's smile fade rapidly and change into a morbid glower. "If anything, I think that  _we_ should do this.  _We_ should change this world  _together_."

The bell rang out, brash, energetic and strong. Blaine gulped in complete dismay as he finally realised that speaking to Kurt had made him skip a class – not that anyone would notice. Brown eyes were inconsequential, after all. Kurt, however… "I'm so sorry." He said, removing his hand from Kurt's, breaching the physical contact they had shared for far too long. "I shouldn't have spoken to you. I've made you skip class. You'll get into trouble now, I'm so sorry."

"Hey, hey, hey," Kurt said, a shadow of a grin on his face as he took in Blaine's exceptionally apprehensive expression.

It was  _endearing_.

"If anything, Blaine, you ought to dislike me. I'm the one who spoke to you; I'm the one who made you miss class. I'm sorry."

Blaine considered Kurt fleetingly, reviewing his features as if they could communicate whether Kurt was being sincere. "Thank you," he said unobtrusively, "you don't understand how nice that is. I've never had anyone say sorry to me before. I've always been the one apologizing. Thank you."

Kurt grimaced at this information and held out his hand. "Come on, brown eye, let's do this."

"Don't call me that." Blaine said softly.

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't call me 'brown eye'." Blaine said bleakly, though his eyes evaded Kurt's at all times. "After all, there is more to me than the colour of my eyes."

Kurt studied him for a minute, and then beamed. "Indeed, there is, Blaine Anderson."


End file.
